Chloe Wright, Editor-in-Chief
My Palestinian student and I started our English class on Zoom like normal. We were to learn how to call a repair person to fix an apartment problem. I was introducing the word plumber to her when she paused and smiled bashfully.
“Oh, do you hear that?” She asked. I shook my head. “If you heard that, those were bomb sirens. So, we’re gonna get bombed soon.”
My face fell. I didn’t know what to say. The news headlines I had seen for over two years flashed in my head: attacks, massacres, famine, apartheid. But now, there was a person behind the headlines in front of me who might be in grave danger.
The volunteer teaching organization’s training told me my students may talk about their trauma during class and that I must provide a listening ear to them. But I didn’t know what to say, sitting in my college dorm room on a lazy Saturday, staring at my laptop screen, I didn’t know what to say.
“Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
My student chuckled lightly and waved her hands. “I’m used to it.”
What lay between me, in my college dorm with quirky posters of studious cats and ancient castles, and my student, in an apartment with her husband and two children, was a screen. “Do you want to continue with class?”
“Oh, yes, yes, it’s fine. It is.”
Even though we were more than ten thousand miles apart, I could not divorce myself from the world’s violence. All I could manage was a very weak “okay.”
Teaching English as a foreign language (TEFL) as a career option was not in my mind when coming to Sewanee. As a freshman, I wanted to work in the publishing industry and write fantasy novels on the side. But in sophomore year, when one of my sorority sisters received her TEFL certificate with the hopes of teaching in Japan, the education field piqued my interest. Then, another sister got her pilot’s license as a sophomore. If my close friends were accomplishing so much so quickly, I figured I might try studying something new.
Before I received my TEFL certificate in August 2025, I was unsure if I should do the intensive training required. But as soon as I began my theory classes and practicum sessions, teaching English hooked me immediately. It was more technical than you might think. An ESL teacher must consider the pedagogy behind language acquisition, as well as how to scaffold lessons properly and how they speak to students, whether they be lower-beginner or advanced. Linguistics is an etymological can of worms itself.
Teaching online and in-person connects me with students from all over the world: Ukraine, Syria, Palestine, Somalia, China, Vietnam, Haiti and more. Because of the variety of experiences my students have, I need to accommodate different learning styles. For example, if my students translate the class content to each other in their native language, that indicates I need to simplify my wording so everyone can understand. If I treat my students with respect and patience, they return the same gestures. It never gets old being called “Miss Teacher” as a 21-year-old college student.
However, as entertaining and heartwarming as teaching can be, TEFL in particular exposed me to sides of the world I would have never seen in the Sewanee bubble. A Haitian woman immigrated to Canada and shared her story with me during class. A high schooler in Ireland told me how much he missed playing basketball in his hometown in China. My Ukrainian student could no longer continue lessons because of Russian bombings causing power outages in her city. The world spins on its axis, no matter how idyllic and isolated Sewanee seems.
As an American, TEFL means more than simply a career where I teach a common language. As American news headlines grow more severe by the day, I worry about what little I can do as a global citizen while recognizing the privilege of my situation. The Trump administration’s hostility and fearmongering over undocumented immigrants make me scared for my students’ safety. How do I help my community in times of anxiety, bigotry and systematic oppression rearing its ugly face? Whether my students want to learn English to speak with coworkers or try to reason with an ICE agent, the TEFL industry works with real people in order to protect their right to a safe and healthy life.
I am not alone at Sewanee. Our University is a top Fulbright producer, sending students all over the world to serve as English teaching assistants. The Bonner/Canale Program connects interns with local ESL programs, like Westwood Elementary School’s after school program. In Gailor Hall, fliers for the ESL nonprofit ENGin advertise volunteer opportunities to teach Ukrainian citizens or refugees.
As the sirens blared in Ramallah, my Palestinian student’s home, she learned plumber, breaker and much more. I assigned her to write emails asking imaginary repair people to fix a leaky faucet, and we reviewed punctuation and phrasal verbs. As I corrected her work, she enthusiastically took notes on how to improve. Her eagerness to learn propels me forward in my pedagogy studies and makes me realize just how important the world’s citizens are.
We cannot divorce ourselves from immigrants, global news or global conflict. I call on my fellow students to treat the world, not just our campus, with the spirit of EQB.